


A Day in the Life of a Fugitive ~ Bucky CACW

by all_the_bat_feels



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, CACW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7699057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_the_bat_feels/pseuds/all_the_bat_feels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has been in hiding for 3 years. His dreams haunting him as he slowly regained his memories. Constant paranoia gnawing at his mind as he settles in Romania, knowing that he's under surveillance; knowing that they could find him if they wanted too. So he bides his time and takes his new life a day at a time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day in the Life of a Fugitive ~ Bucky CACW

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece EVER, so please let me know what you think (I'd love any constructive criticism).  
> Also, let me know if you'd like any more. :)
> 
> Now you may read away...

The scrape of metal penetrated the smothering dreams in his head. Slowly his bleary vision cleared, the sunlight shrouding him as he turned away from the window. He stretched out, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Instinctively he rubbed at the strange melding between metal and flesh, a futile attempt to ease the permanent aching. Rolling off his make-do bed - which consisted of a mattress and sleeping bag shoved into the corner of a miniscule apartment - Bucky lifted up a secret floor board and grasped the most recent in a collection of tattered journals.  Quickly he jotted down the already fleeting memories he’d seen in his dreams and then stashed it back under the floor board.  Continuing his routine he headed for the dodgy bathroom hoping the cold water would divert the attention from the pain in his shoulder.

After a considerable amount of time spent soaking under the frigid water, he slipped into the only pair of jeans he owned, a long sleeved shirt and some mismatched socks he’d pinched from his neighbour’s washing line. Wet drops of water squeezed out of his hands as he rung out his long hair. Bucky’s arm swept across his jeans as the practically frozen metal bit his skin through the material. After quickly surveying the contents of his fridge, he decided the moldy morsel of cheese and remaining orange juice would not quell his hunger. Whilst putting on his jacket, he swiped his cap and back pack from the floor and secured his apartment.

Swiftly he exited the apartment building, avoiding contact with passersby and leaving through the back door into an alley. The chilly Romanian weather welcomed him as he made his way to the marketplace. He weaved through the streets like a ghost, his past influencing his fluid movements like a spy undercover. How ironic. Passing the stalls, he quickly located the desired items. In fluent Romanian - that was no longer surprising - he bought the few plums he’d wanted and began to continue on with his shopping. He’d read plums can help improve memory and thought it was worth a shot.

As Bucky made to cross the road, he suddenly felt a presence that unnerved him. The years of training and torture had honed his skills practically second to none and now as he met the stare of anxious newspaper clerk he himself felt a wave of anxiety sweep through him. Back and forth the man’s eyes flitted from the newspaper. Stepping forward to close the distance, he watched as the man’s face sunk with realization and he quickly bolted from his stall. As Bucky reached the counter he picked up the newspaper to find his picture gracing the front cover, the headline read of a terrorist who had bombed the Sokovia Accords meeting in Vienna.

Astounded and mortified his senses kicked in, he began to rush back to apartment and prepared to relocate and once again disappear from the world. His mind swam with questions as he darted through the shadows:

_How did they get my picture? Why were they framing me? Who were they?_

 Although some things were completely unknown to him, he had suspicions about the identity of “who” and he knew for certain they would be hunting him already. Finally whirling up the stairs, down the hall and to his front door, he wasted no time unlocking the door and instantly surveying the apartment for danger.

What, or who he saw was not unexpected - but still very surprising. For three years his whereabouts had been unknown… or at least he’d been left alone. Yet he always knew eventually this confrontation would occur. It felt inevitable, like an impending tide on high cliff walls. He slowed his breathing and watched as his old friend reached up to grab a journal from atop the fridge. He hadn’t been detected yet but as the man carefully looked through the memories he’d pieced together, he decided to finally make himself known. He had no doubts the recent news of his apparent involvement had brought his… friend here. He took a tentative step forward, making sure to allow his movements to be heard and watched as the shield, strapped to the broad shoulders of his friend, glinted as he turned.

He remembered very few things, mostly nights spent being tortured or on missions as a programmed assassin working for the sinister organisation, Hydra. But every so often, he would be bombarded with images of a skinny, little boy with soft blue eyes that would harden in determination. Then the boy would disappear and be replaced with a hardy wall of muscle, the same blue eyes still shining and filled with strength. This man now stood in front of him, the same blue eyes weary but the subtle tilt of his lips betraying his worry. He was clad in a variation of the iconic red, white and blue and showed no signs of roughness on his face, no stubble or bags.

 Silence stretched on for a few seconds, both their minds reeling as they made sense of the situation. As the silence grew, finally, Steve spoke.

“Buck,” the word hung in the air between them, an old nickname so precious and natural.

The comfortable feeling consuming him solidified his decision and suddenly it dawned on Bucky, it was time to rekindle their friendship at last.

So they wasted no time and just like clockwork, they settled back into a unique rhythm as natural as the day they parted.


End file.
